


The Storm and the Sun

by FaramirsBlessing



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, But Victor is an angel, Forehead Kisses, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Yuri has bad anxiety guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 20:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10929807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaramirsBlessing/pseuds/FaramirsBlessing
Summary: Yuuri has a panic attack the day before a competition but Victor is there for him.





	The Storm and the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Yuri!!On Ice has one of the best depictions of anxiety I have ever seen in any type of media - it is nearly flawless. I too, have super bad anxiety, and it sometimes leads to panic attacks. I based almost all of Yuuri's thoughts of my own so this story is really personal.
> 
> Also this is set earlier in their relationship, so there's still some boundaries between them.

The day before a competition was always the worst for Yuuri. The anxiety that always lurked somewhere deep inside of him reared its ugly head in full. It dugs its ugly fangs deep inside Yuuri like a hungry beast, consuming whatever semblance of control he’d had before. It made his mind race with disturbing thoughts - he would botch all of his jumps horribly, Viktor would leave him because of how bad he was, his family would abandon him. There were other thoughts too, far more unrealistic, but Yuuri couldn't stop them from surfacing, no matter how badly he tried. The most prominent of these was that his family and the only love of his life would surely be killed; Yuuri’s vivid imagination forced him to see ruby blood and empty eyes, no matter how badly he didn't want to.

With the racing thoughts came an equally racing heart, and, coupled with it, difficulty breathing. Yuuri swore that someone was squeezing his lungs in their fists and making it _so_ hard to breathe right. There was a constant pressure on his chest and it was scary, to say the least. His stomach churned and his limbs were shaky.

He hated it.

It was the day before a major competition and Yuuri had just had practice with Viktor - a final run through of his program. He’d messed up a few times, much to his horror and disappointment. Suddenly Viktor’s gentle admonishments and tips seemed like a harsh lashing. Yuuri had barely kept from crying then and there.

As soon as Viktor had finished speaking, Yuuri excused himself to the bathroom, all but running from the rink. He could practically see Viktor’s confused eyes boring into his back, but he ignored them.

Yuuri found the bathroom within a minute and seconds later he had locked himself in a stall. Through his growing panic he realized that the bathroom was clean and he was grateful.

Grabbing his face and breathing hard, Yuuri slid to the floor. He wasn't wearing his glasses so he couldn't see well but he could tell with certainty that his legs were visibly shaking. With a whimper, Yuuri pulled his legs close to his chest, buried his face in his knees, and closed his eyes.

The blackness brought little comfort; Yuuri’s panicked thoughts returned with a vengeance.

_I’m such a failure!_ he screamed at himself. _I can’t do anything right! I should just give up already!_

“No!” Yuuri cried aloud, digging his fingers into his legs. “No, no, no!”

_Come on, Yuuri, you know you can’t do this anymore! Quit skating, fatty!_

“No,” Yuuri repeated. “No.”

_No one believes in me. I’m a loser_. An image of Viktor — bright and smiling — popped into his mind before it was violently distorted. Viktor was now looking at him with disgust, his lip curled into a sneer. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Yuuri screamed.

“NO!” he yelled, snapping his head up. He opened his eyes wide and stared blankly ahead of him, the image of a disgusted Viktor still burned into his mind. Yuri tangled his fingers in his hair and shook his head furiously.

“No,” he repeated, more softly this time. “No, Viktor’s on my side.”

_Is he though? Or is here just because I’m an amusement? After all, I’m nothing more than a laughingstock._

“No,” Yuuri said, “h-he cares.”

_He does not! Viktor just —_

His chaotic thoughts were cut off by a knock on the stall door. Yuuri froze and clapped a hand over his mouth. The knock repeated itself.

“Yuuri?”

Viktor. That was Viktor’s voice.

Yuuri’s heart clenched in his chest and he scrambled back as much as he could; it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

Viktor knocked again.

Yuuri stifled a terrified sob.

_No, no, no!_ he thought. _No, he can’t see me like this! He’ll leave me for sure!_

Viktor knocked again, more urgently this time, and Yuuri thought he heard concern in his voice. But that wasn't possible. . . No one cared about him, after all.

“Yuuri?” Viktor asked. “Yuuri, are you all right? You’ve been gone for twenty minutes.”

_Twenty minutes?! Oh shit. . ._ No wonder Viktor had gone looking for him.

“I-I’m fine, Viktor,” Yuuri said, and even he didn't believe himself. His voice was shaky, weak, and thick with tears. Yuuri touched his face with trembling fingers. When had he started crying?

“No, you’re not,” Viktor said sternly. Yuuri winced. “Yuuri, let me in.”

Viktor experimentally tried to pull the stall door open and the resulting sound of the jingling lock made Yuuri jump. A frightened yelp left, unbidden, from his mouth. He clapped his hands over his mouth again, but not before he heard Viktor gasp. He knocked again, urgently.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, are you all right?! Are you hurt?”

“N-No,” Yuri stammered.

“Then why are you crying? What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

A hysterical sob bubbled up from Yuuri’s throat. Viktor? Viktor thought he had hurt him? How could he even _think_ that? He’d never done anything to hurt him.

Although Yuuri knew he had done plenty to hurt Viktor. He’d been the one to take Viktor from the skating world and he couldn't even learn the programs they worked on together. He was a massive failure. . .

_I’m such a disappointment._

Yuuri half-laughed, half-sobbed as he tossed his head back against the bathroom wall. He beat his head repeatedly against the hard tile, taking only slight comfort in the pain that radiated through his head. He clenched his chest over his shirt and kept laughing, ignoring how it became increasingly harder to breathe. He vaguely heard Viktor pounding on the door, yelling his name, but Yuuri couldn't be bothered to care. He hoped he’d pass out soon — then he’d no longer have to deal with this debilitating panic attack.

Finally, all his breathe left his lungs in one fell swoop.

Yuuri blinked.

Instead of the blissful black nothingness he had desired, his vision was filled with a shock of silver. It took him a minute, but Yuuri suddenly realized there were arms around him and a warm face nestled in the crook of his neck.

Viktor.

“It’s all right,” Viktor was saying over and over again. “It’s all right. It’s all right, Yuuri.”

Yuuri felt his chest tighten again, and, before he knew what he was doing, he had shoved Viktor off him.

“NO!” he all but shrieked. “No! Don’t touch me!!”

He closed his eyes again, breathing hard, heart pounding in his chest. Had he just snapped at and pushed Viktor Nikiforov? _Oh god, oh god. . ._

When Yuuri dared to open his eyes, still horrified about what he had just done, he nearly stopped breathing.

Viktor was sitting in front of him, having been shoved to his butt when Yuuri had pushed him away. His fair face was twisted up in confusion and his blue eyes shone with a mix of hurt and concern.

Yuuri gasped and snapped his eyes closed, and scooted to the corner, making himself as small as possible. He couldn't believe he’d made Viktor look like that. He never wanted to see it again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, rocking back and forth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Yuuri,” Viktor interrupted, and his voice was soft and gentle. “Yuuri, you don’t need to be sorry. In fact, I’m the one who should apologize.”

Yuuri didn't open his eyes but frowned. What?

“I invaded your space without asking.” Viktor’s voice was calm, smooth. “I shouldn't assume I know what you need.” He lowered his voice further. “What do you need?”

“I-I-”

Why was Viktor asking him what he needed? He didn't need anything, he didn't deserve anything, least of all concern from Viktor. He was a terrible person — Viktor deserved better than him. He started to bang his head against the wall again.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said, “Yuuri, please stop that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Yuuri didn't stop, he couldn't stop, he deserved the pain, he deserved it —

“Shh,” Viktor comforted, “you don’t deserve pain, Yuuri. If you’re going to keep doing this, I’m going to make it hurt less, okay? I’m going to put my hand between your head and the wall. Like a pillow, okay?”

He didn't wait for Yuuri to respond, but slipped a hand between Yuuri’s black head and the blue tile wall of the bathroom. It took Yuuri a few minutes to realize that he wasn't hitting the tile anymore, but Viktor’s soft hand. He froze. He didn't open his eyes but he heard the smile in Viktor’s voice.

“There we go, Yuuri, it’s okay,” he said and he massaged Yuuri’s scalp with his long, gentle fingers. “You’re all right, Yuuri, you’re safe.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Yuuri cried. “I-I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Viktor said. “It’s okay, Yuuri.”

“No, it’s not!” Yuuri cried and he made himself impossibly smaller. “It’s not okay! You shouldn’t have seen me like this! I’m awful! Terrible!” His body shook with sobs. “I-I-I’m so s-sorry!”

“Yuuri. . .” Victor said. “Yuuri, it’s all right. You’re not terrible. Why would you say that?”

“I messed up today!” Yuuri choked. “I messed up so many times! I won’t do well tomorrow, I just know it! I’ll place last for sure!”

“Is that what this is about?” Viktor asked and he sounded confused. “Yuuri,” he said after a moment, “it’s all right to mess up! We all mess up!” Yuuri shook his head furiously but Viktor only hushed him, running his fingers through Yuuri’s soft black hair. “We all mess up, Yuuri. It’s all right. Besides, you only made a few mistakes today. You were wonderful!”

Yuuri snapped his head up, missing colliding with Viktor’s head by only a narrow margin. He settled his huge red rimmed eyes on Viktor’s face and grabbed his arms, overwhelmed with panic.

“But what if I make those mistakes during the competition?!?” he all but shrieked.

Viktor smiled comfortingly at Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” he said, “you won’t. You are a very, very talented skater. I have so much faith in you.”

“You shouldn’t!” Yuuri cried and his grip on Viktor’s arms tightened painfully. “You shouldn’t believe in me, Viktor! You shouldn't have any faith in me!”

“Why not?” Viktor asked and Yuuri almost couldn't stand the innocent, honest-to-God, misunderstanding in his eyes. Yuuri let go of Viktor and looked away.

“Why are you here, Viktor?” he whispered, avoiding eye contact. “Why did you come?”

“Hm? Well, it’s as I’ve told you before, Yuuri. I saw your video and I was amazed and—”

“But why did you stay?”

“Because you’re _amazing_ , Yuuri!” Viktor said without hesitation. Yuuri could almost see the smile on his face. “You’re such a wonderful skater and an even better man!”

Yuuri dared to look up, and, indeed, Viktor was smiling — his expression was soft and gentle, earnest and kind. His smile got wider when his eyes met Yuuri’s.

“Ah, Yuuri!” he said. Before Yuuri could move, Viktor was holding his hands. “Yuuri, you’re so wonderful! You’re a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful person!!”

Yuuri blinked a few times and he felt something in his chest loosen. It was suddenly a lot easier to breathe. Viktor smiled even wider.

“You’re breathing again, Yuuri! Very good!” He squeezed Yuuri’s hands. Next he pulled Yuuri into a close hug. It was tight, but not tight enough to hurt or make it hard to breathe. It was . . . nice. He melted a bit, relaxing into Viktor’s chest. Viktor nodded and tucked Yuuri’s head under his chin. “You’re talented and beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. I adore you.”

Yuuri gripped Viktor tight.

“Will you leave me?” he all but breathed.

Viktor hugged him tight.

“Never, Yuuri,” he said. “I’ll never leave you.”

They sat on the bathroom floor like that, intertwined, Viktor a rock amidst Yuuri’s panic attack, for nigh on an hour. Yuuri’s panic and would come and go in waves — sometimes it was severe enough that Viktor considered calling an ambulance, and other times it seemed to leave Yuuri in long and peaceful waves.

Then finally, finally, it was over. Viktor and Yuuri hadn't moved from their spot, but both were holding onto each more fiercely than ever.

“Are you all right, Yuuri?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri bobbed his head.

“‘M tired,” he whispered.

Viktor sighed and pulled Yuuri even closer.

“I know you are, _solnyshka moyo_ ,” he said.

Yuuri’s heart stopped again in his chest, but this time it was not from panic.

“Wh-What did you just say?” he asked, pulling back from Viktor a bit. He looked up at his bright blue eyes which were shining with mirth and amusement.

“ _Solnyshka moyo_ ,” Viktor repeated.

“And?” Yuuri prompted when Viktor didn't say anything else.

“And?” Viktor asked, feigning confusion.

Yuuri barely kept from rolling his eyes.

“And what does it mean?”

“Ah!” Viktor cried and a wide grin split his face. “It’s Russian! In English it means ‘my little sun’!”

Yuuri didn't think it was possible, but his heart sped faster than it ever had before in its whole life. Had Viktor just given him a pet name? Even after that ridiculous panic attack?

“V-Viktor,” Yuuri stammered, “you shouldn't call me that.”

“Oh.” Viktor’s face fell. “Do you not like it? I won’t call you that if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, no!” Yuuri cried, shaking his head. “No, I love it! I mean. . . I just. . .” Yuuri trailed off and bit his lip. “I don’t deserve such a nice name.”

“That’s not true!” Viktor cried and he pulled Yuuri close to him again. “That’s the best name to call you, Yuuri!”

Yuuri frowned.

“Huh? What are you talking about, Viktor?”

“You’re my sun!” Viktor said, hugging Yuuri tight and burying his face in his neck. “You make everything so wonderful and bright for me!”

“R-Really?” Yuuri stammered, and, unbidden, a few tears dripped down his cheeks to settle in Viktor’s hair.

Viktor laughed and leaned back. He took Yuuri’s face in his hands and gently cupped his cheeks. With careful fingers, he swept away some more of Yuuri’s tears.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said, blushing bright red. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“It’s all right,” Viktor said. “It’s like the rain. And I’ve always liked the rain.” Yuuri blushed even darker and Viktor laughed.

“Do you know your tears look like raindrops, Yuuri?” he asked.

Yuuri blinked and Viktor laughed again; Yuuri loved it when he laughed. It was like each one chased away some more of the ever fading traces of panic.

“You like. . . rain?” he asked.

“Yes!” Viktor cried. “And do you know what I like even better than the rain?”

“What?”

“The sun!” He leaned forward and planted a kiss at the crown of Yuuri’s head. Yuuri squeaked in sharp surprise and Viktor leaned back with a laugh.

“My beloved little sun!” he said. “I know you’ll always come back to me after a storm!”

He smiled at Yuuri, who suddenly realized that, if his panic attack was the storm, then he had to be the sun. He was a bright, wonderful sun who brought joy into Viktor’s life.

For the first time in a while, Yuuri smiled.

“Ah!” Viktor cried and his face lit up with joy. “ _Solnyshka moyo!_ ”

When Viktor pulled him back into a hug, Yuuri realized that maybe, just maybe, he was worth more than he imagined. He returned Viktor’s hug, squeezing him as tightly as he could.

“ _Solnyshka moyo,_ ” he whispered. “I like that.”

Viktor kissed the top of his head again, and, in a final wash of piece, Yuuri felt the sun chase away the last remnants of the storm.

****************************

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: I don't know Russian. . . 
> 
> I would love reviews!


End file.
